Sherlock's Sixth Sense
by Neoholmesz
Summary: CH.3 UP!---What if Sherlock had a secret? What if he used this secret to help him in his cases? What if he didn't mind his morbid detective work because of this secret? What if? (can you tell I'm bad at summeries?)
1. The First Scream

Sherlock's Sixth Sense  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Hey everyone!! It's me, neoholmesz, and this is my 2nd fanfic!! I want to thank Mary Christmas and Bonnie S. for sending me reviews on The Christmas Wish. It's people like you who help me keep going. Thanx!! Also these two are some of the best authors so I suggest you see their stories!  
  
As usual, I own nothing. Sherlock Holmes belongs to ACD and The Sixth Sense belongs to M. Night S.  
  
RATED: PG-13 For some scary and/or grisly moments.  
  
Please keep your hands and legs inside the vehicle at all times. Thank You! And here we go!  
  
The woman had been dead for a long time. Holmes didn't know how long, he didn't want to know. He looked on as Lestrade restated the facts. It was a homicide. Holmes was sure of that. There was blood under her fingernails, possibly from a struggle. Since there were no marks of violence he assumed she was suffocated.  
  
He looked away.  
  
Who would do this to a woman of all people? Suddenly, his eye caught a sudden flash of movement. Was it her?!? No. No, impossible. He inwardly laughed at how jittery he was. This wasn't the first dead body he had ever seen. He could remember others. Many others.  
  
Another flash of movement. This time he was sure it was her. He looked on as her eyes slowly opened. She was looking straight at him. Lestrade and Watson froze in terror. Holmes couldn't move, he felt as if his feet were glued to the floor. They watched in horror as she clumsily hopped off the examination table and stood before them.  
  
She smiled and suddenly grabbed Holmes by the neck.  
  
She slowly started to squeeze.  
  
"NOOOOOOO!!!" Sherlock Holmes shot up in bed, shaking uncontrollably. He looked around quickly, realizing it was only a dream.  
  
A horrible, horrible dream.  
  
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The cold swept over him, covering him like a blanket. He knew this feeling all too well. He got it whenever he thought about.  
  
THEM.  
  
He sighed, relaxing a bit. He lay back down, hoping for sleep. After a while of tossing and turning, sleep found him.  
  
*** That's all I got so far. I don't really know where to take this now so I would love to hear some ideas. I kinda want to keep this in a romantic scheme 'cause I'm that kinda person. I also want Holmes to have the Sixth Sense. It would be a good twist since he believes in nothing of the sort. Other than that I'm up for anything you throw at me, so please send reviews! More Reviews=More stories, FASTER, so keep it up!!  
  
Ps. Sorry it's so short!  
Pps. REVIEW!!!!! 


	2. The Mask

HOLY S#!@T I'M ACTUALLY UPDATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Did u miss me?  
  
I am SO sorry this took so long (it's been like a year huh?) I've been EXTREMELY BUSY I'll try to go faster! Am I like a sucky author so far or what?!  
  
I want to thank everyone who reviewed! AND I want to thank March Hare and Nooka for writing such wonderful stories and helping me on this one! This is dedicated to you! I LOVE U GUYS!  
  
Well.......here's Ch. 2: The Mask  
  
It was a cold, damp, foggy London morning. A perfect addition to Dr. Watson's already troubling day. Business had gone bad for weeks and he feared he wouldn't be able to sustain his marriage with his beloved Mary if it kept going the way it was. On top of it all was a strange sense of.....loneliness? How long had it been since he had last seen Holmes? He was probably wrapped up in some case knowing him. To see Holmes would definitely bring a little light into an already gloomy day. He wondered, had Holmes missed him too?  
  
Sherlock Holmes filled the now familiar needle to the correct dosage. As he held the needle above his arm he hesitated. Why am I doing this? It was a weakness. A weakness he could no longer tolerate. He knew he had to stop, but it was too late. He winced at the sting of the needle as he injected its contents.  
  
Watson quietly entered the all to familiar rooms of 221B Baker Street. Upon the sound of the door opening his friend rose from his seat. His face had a downcast look to it, a look of pain? His features immediately brightened at the sight of Watson.  
  
"Watson! How are you old boy?"  
  
If Holmes had any feelings of pain, they were now forgotten. His face was full of light and energy as he ushered Watson into the room and sat him in a chair adjacent to his own. In a way Holmes' cheery disposition annoyed Watson. He had noticed it before, whenever Holmes would trick him with those disguises of his. His cheerful expression was like a disguise, a mask to hide his true feelings. But what in the world would make him feel that way? Watson had always thought of Holmes as a man with "nerves of steel". He shook the thought from his mind, for who could harm the great detective himself?  
  
They cheerfully reminisced about old times and talked about the happenings of the day. Holmes still kept up his sunny disposition, but Watson noticed he acted uneasy. He kept looking around the room as if to find something and he kept jumping even at the slightest noise. Watson continually wanted to ask what was wrong but decided against it. After all, this was the man who used his wall for target practice and also kept his tobacco in a Persian slipper. Holmes kept up the conversation as if he didn't want Watson to leave. Finally, after they had talked about everything from the latest crime to the weather, Holmes asked Watson if he would accompany him to dinner. Watson didn't think this a bad idea, since he did want to stay with Holmes, and find out what was bothering him so. Holmes seemed delighted with the answer and got up to get his coat.  
  
The moment he got up he froze and stared straight at the open door. Watson looked from the detective to the door and back to the detective. What on earth was he looking at? Holmes was as still as a statue and never took his gaze from the door. Watson started to feel uncomfortable.  
  
"Holmes, what is the matter?"  
  
Holmes shook his head as if coming out of a trance. He looked towards Watson then back to the door.  
  
"Nothing Watson. Nothing"  
  
There was another one. Holmes couldn't take it anymore. He was on the verge of getting a gun the next time he saw one of those bloody things. Thinking about that Holmes wondered if a gun would work on them. He didn't know who that man was or where he came from, but he did know one thing.  
  
He knew he never wanted to see that again.  
  
"Nothing Watson. Nothing."  
  
Nothing? Then what in bloody hell were you staring at?  
  
Holmes grabbed his coat and walked through the door. Watson knew of his friends' brilliant observation skills, but he could see absolutely nothing wrong with the door. It looked as it had always been, without a scratch on it. Watson shrugged, turning around to shut the door. He suddenly stopped. He looked at the open door.  
  
Didn't I shut it when I came in?  
  
Dinner was eventful. Not only was the food not exactly the best, but Holmes also acted as curious as ever. He kept looking at the people at the adjoining tables as if they were inhuman. But that was nothing compared to when we left. As Holmes and I were walking out he seemed to jump slightly to the left. He turned around and promptly said excuse me to the person he ran into.  
  
He was apologizing to nothing but air.  
  
I looked at him puzzled.  
  
"Holmes, who are you talking to?"  
  
At first he seemed confused but after a quick glance back he made a look like something of fear and embarrassment.  
  
"Nobody Watson"  
  
When we arrived at Baker Street Holmes offered me a pot of tea before I went for the long, cold journey back to my quarters. I gladly accepted and followed him inside. As soon as I was ready to go Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room.  
  
"There's a lady to see you Mister Holmes. A Mrs. Knox. I told her it was a bit late but she insists on seeing you."  
  
Holmes smiled. "Go ahead and let her in Mrs. Hudson."  
  
After a few minutes a woman walked in with a little girl behind her. The little girl looked a bit frightened and the lady very worried. The girl looked at everything in the room then decided upon fixing her gaze on Holmes. She was a small girl, about ten years of age. She had long, curly blond hair and rosy cheeks. She could have passed for a china doll had she not looked so frightened. The woman on the other hand, which I took to be the girl's mother, was the exact opposite of her daughter. She had short, flat sandy blonde hair with a very pale face and dark eyes. The woman announced herself as Lauren Knox and her daughter was Amanda.  
  
Holmes smiled and invited them in.  
  
"I hope you had a nice journey from America Mrs. Knox, considering you don't like to go out much. These London trains can be quite crowded, I hope you easily found your way here."  
  
The woman looked surprised.  
  
"I am sure you deduced I was American from the accent, but how did you know the others?"  
  
Holmes smiled. "It is my business to know what others do not. Judging by your pale complexion I deduced you don't see the sun much so you must not go outside very often and as for the train ride the ticket is sticking out of your pocket."  
  
The lady was overjoyed. "Oh Mr. Holmes you're as wonderful as the people say you are! You must help me, I have no one left to turn to!"  
  
Holmes sat down in his chair. "Please, tell us what is troubling you so."  
  
The lady shook her head. "I don't know if you will believe this Mr. Holmes, but my daughters seeing ghosts!"  
  
DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!! Cliffie!  
  
Who is this mysterious woman and is what she's saying true? I'll try to hurry but I would like reviews please! I also tried to make this one longer. Did I do okay? REVIEW!!!!! 


	3. The Memory

Hi everyone! I'm back! Miss me? ......What, no cheering crowds? * sighs * Oh well...  
  
I hope you all liked the 2nd chapter cause this ones gonna be good! Or at least it'll be longer... I'm gonna be real mean in this chap so don't get upset, K? I have many theories on how Holmes lost his parents. The one you are about to encounter is one of them. I know.I'm evil but...I'm one of those creepy "torture Sherlock" kinds of people...but only in stories! ^_^ So yes this chap'll be depressing, but that's what Horror stories are all about! I want to thank ALL who reviewed! You people are so cool! Oh yeah.Hank? I know my writing is kinda crazy but I'm like one of those Stephen King fans and there is no boundaries when he's writing! I'm kinda adding to the craziness of the story, but thanx for pointing that out. I'll try to make it less confusing! ZOEgirl Chick: I hope you got a review; I REALLY liked your story!  
  
Enough talk! Ch.3: The Memory  
  
Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes and looked at the woman.  
  
"Ghosts?"  
  
Mrs. Knox continued cautiously.  
  
"Y-yes sir. I know it sounds crazy but."  
  
Amanda looked up, angrily.  
  
"I am NOT crazy!"  
  
Mrs. Knox tried to calm her little girl but she broke free of her grasp and ran up to Holmes, grabbing his hand.  
  
"I'm not crazy, I'm..."  
  
She gasped and drew away from Holmes with fear in her eyes. She acted as though Holmes' touch had hurt her.  
  
Holmes looked at her questioningly, surprised by her sudden outburst. Her mother knelt down close to her.  
  
"Amanda? Amanda, honey, what's wrong?"  
  
Amanda looked at Holmes with wide eyes and said with a voice barely above a whisper,  
  
"You're one of them...."  
  
The mother suddenly looked as frightened as her daughter.  
  
"W-what?"  
  
Surprisingly, Amanda then smiled. She cautiously walked towards Holmes, studying him, as if to determine whether or not he was dangerous. Looking satisfied, she smiled yet again.  
  
"Now you'll have to believe me!"  
  
My friend, Sherlock Holmes, was always kind and patient with the children I have seen him near, and this child was no exception.  
  
Holmes knelt down to her level and looked at her with pity in his eyes.  
  
"When did you start seeing them?"  
  
I was surprised at the question. Holmes sounded so sincere, as if he believed her. I expected an explanation of some sort, stating it was only her imagination or that ghosts definitely are not and never were real.  
  
A look of sadness swept across her face as she looked up at Holmes.  
  
"It was....after my daddy died."  
  
Holmes placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He looked as though he fully understood what she was going through. He then stood up, looking at the mother, and to my utter amazement he accepted the case. The mother was overjoyed.  
  
"Oh, thank you Mr. Holmes, but are you sure...? I mean you haven't even heard what has happened. Not that I don't appreciate this, I do, but...."  
  
Holmes interrupted her, "Don't worry,"  
  
He looked down at the girl.  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
* * *  
  
After the two had left I turned to Holmes. There were questions that needed answering.  
  
"Holmes, why in the world did you accept that case? You don't believe in that nonsense."  
  
Holmes looked around nervously, as if searching for an answer.  
  
"Watson, that girl...she needs someone to help her."  
  
"But how....how do you plan on solving this?"  
  
".....I don't know Watson. I don't know."  
  
I could see Holmes was exhausted with all this new information so, even though I had many more questions, I said goodnight and left him alone with his thoughts.  
  
* * *  
  
With Watson gone, Holmes was able to collect his thoughts and without wanting to, he started to remember.  
  
The house was huge, almost like a mansion. There was a garden and a stable. Sherlock smiled. So this was to be his new home. He looked across the carriage to his mother and father. They looked so.happy together. They smiled as Sherlock kept peeking his head out of the carriage. It was a shame Mycroft and Sherrinford weren't able to accompany them. They had stayed behind, finishing the rest of the packing.  
  
Sherlock was always a different little boy. While others his age were playing ball, he was obsessed with the mysteries of death and the criminal mind. He didn't mind anything frightening he rather liked it. Perhaps that's why he remembered the song. He first heard it sung by his mother. It was a sad little song, but for some reason he liked it. It was hauntingly beautiful. He started to sing while looking towards the house.  
  
* Here we go, *  
  
* The world is spinning. *  
  
*When it stops, *  
  
* It's just beginning. *  
  
* Sun comes up, *  
  
* We laugh and we cry. *  
  
* Sun goes down, *  
  
* And then we all die. *  
  
Holmes' mother was a very beautiful woman with long raven-black hair.  
His father was a sharp-featured yet handsome man with very dark brown  
hair. Although much of Sherlock's face was like his father, he had the  
heart and mind of his mother, always kind, yet always curious. He smiled  
at his parents. He loved them so much his life was perfect.  
  
And then it all came crashing down.  
  
Sherlock couldn't remember exactly what happened. He remembered the  
carriage shaking for some reason. He was scared. He couldn't see his  
parents he couldn't see anything. Then there was a sudden jolt. His head  
came forward, hitting the side of the door, and knocking him unconscious.  
  
When he woke it was dark. The horses which took them there were gone and  
the carriage the horses led was in pieces. Sherlock looked about him,  
searching for his parents. If he made it then surely they were fine as  
well.  
  
The little boy looked all around what he thought was the center of the  
accident. He then looked up the road to the house.  
  
He saw a man, a man standing in the middle of the road. He was tall with  
an old soldier uniform on, complete with a hat. The boy ran up to the  
man, in tears, begging for help in finding his parents.  
  
The man just stood there, staring as if the poor boy were invisible. He  
then looked straight into his eyes and laughed. His laughter was cold,  
almost haunting. The boy, seeing no help coming from the man, frantically  
looked around the whole area. He found them. They were lying by the side  
of the road.  
  
He ran to them, away from the man's laughter. When he reached them he  
suddenly felt a wave of coldness sweep over him. Something was wrong.  
Sherlock looked back to the man, seeking some kind of help.  
  
The man was gone.  
  
The house caretaker witnessed the whole thing. He later said that  
something had frightened the horses, causing them to bolt. The carriage  
ran into a tree, leaving a huge cut. New Scotland Yard inspectors came,  
with large uniforms and millions of questions. Sherlock was talking with  
an Inspector....Lestrade? He couldn't remember. He didn't want to  
remember. Everything was so confusing. Where were his mommy and daddy?  
What had happened to them? Everyone he asked would look at him sadly,  
silent.  
  
It was only until afterwards when he realized it. Maybe because he didn't  
want to believe it was true. He now knew, he would never see his mommy  
and daddy again.....  
  
Sherlock Holmes came back to the present day with the small droplets  
of water sliding down his face. He shook his head, trying to forget. He  
had to forget. He spun around as he heard someone come through the door.  
  
It was Mrs. Hudson. She looked at him with sympathy in her eyes.  
  
"Mr. Holmes, are you.....?"  
  
Holmes quickly composed himself.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. I'm fine"  
  
Embarrassed, Holmes quickly got up and retired to his rooms. Mrs. Hudson  
looked on sadly. She sighed.  
  
No child should have to go through what that poor boy had.  
  
She remembered when they first met. The poor boy was frightened, alone.  
She remembered hearing what had happened. Seeing his face, so full of  
sadness. He would refrain from talking to anyone. He kept to himself.  
Mrs. Hudson didn't know what would have happened had she not of taken him  
in. The boy was all alone. He had needed her. She was glad that Holmes  
had Watson to confide in. Yet even Dr. Watson hadn't learned of Holmes'  
past. Mrs. Hudson looked towards Holmes' room.  
  
Tonight would be hard for the detective.  
  
* * *  
  
Holmes lie in bed, trying to take his mind off his troubles. He grew  
drowsy, and the horrible nightmares came to him yet again.  
  
* * *  
  
So? How do ya like it? I looked all over for a song that was creepy and  
at the same time haunting. Then I saw the movie "The Ring" (know as  
"Ringu" in Japan) I heard Samara sing it and it was perfect. She sings  
part of it when she's standing by the well and all of it at the end of  
the credits. For more info. Go to ring-themovie.com . Hmmm, I like that  
movie. Well, gotta go! Happy haunting! 


End file.
